Of Trembling Light
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: Part Two up! (SLASH C/J, Het D/A) What if Senna hadn't been the only one to chose them? What if they weren't stolen from their old world-- but returned to their first? Every story has a beginning...
1. Prelude

Of Trembling Light 

By Kay 

Disclaimer: I don't own Everworld or its characters-- thank KA for letting me screw around with 'em to my heart's content. ^_^ 

Author's Notes: ... well. Uh. I should *not* be doing more series, what with the others I have to finish. ("Just Another Disease", "Oh My!", ect.) But I felt an urge to start it. ^^;; Damn it. 

This is... really, really AU. A bit of a hesitant exploration of AU universes, possibilities that definatly wouldn't be in the books. Basically, I'm going with the flow of whatever I want. I've had a long time theory that the four Everworld guys we all know and love-- started there. 

... yup, that made sense. 

It's been a long held belief of mine that Senna didn't have the only hand in their choosing-- someone intervened, using her as well, getting rid of Jalil's OCD, ect. She wondered about it herself. And while I'm sure some people would say its Brigid, I beg to differ. No way, not with those failing powers of hers. I don't think it's God. I'm sure Fate had some hand in it, some larger thing or god. I think David, April, Christopher, and sexy Jalil were chosen for a reason. 

... um, and this is it. I think they are reincarnated from four beings who once were very important to Everworld. (Jalil would smack me for this explanation!) And after their rebirth, it's only natural for them to be drawn back to their place of origin. Hence, this fic turned out. ... a whole lotta slashy/het fun with the gang, involving lots of cool stuff. Yuuup. ^__^ Enjoy! Starts off where Senna dies, hee hee. 

Jalil: ... well, gee, that was *helpful*. 

~~~~~~ 

It was impossible. I could not be defeated. 

There was no way it could happen. No reason why it should have. Everything I had done was perfect, in the most wonderful order, down to the last manipulation and spell. I'd had them as my chess pieces, they were my pawns to play with. They didn't control me, they were under _my_ rule, my power. This was inconceivable. Impossible... 

But I was gone. I was dead. She had killed me. 

So hard to think about, to accept, that a weakling of her moral twistedness could have finished me. I could have conquered the gods, defeated the magic and limited strength they contained, I could have had _Everworld_. And all my plans, all my carefully administrated suggestions and ideas, all gone. Destroyed the second that stupid cow slid the cold steel into my flesh. I don't remember the pain, don't care. But she was there, all horrified yet strangely calm green eyes, looking at me blankly. My half sister. 

My murderer. 

_Your savior._

This was impossible! 

A dream, a struggling nightmare of thickened shadows, that's all this was. I could not lose now, not so close, not when the power had been in my grasp, and the light, the glow, was so beautifully wide that it could have swallowed me. I could have drowned in that glow, basked in it. I had the power now. The legions of men all armed and ready to kill for me. An army that would bring that world to its knees for me. 

I wouldn't accept this! No! 

_It does not matter anymore. It is done._

No! NO! No, this was my world, my dream! 

_You are gone from it now._

I refuse to believe all my years of waiting to get to this point, have been for nothing! I refuse to believe that I am laying there below, golden hair spilled about me like straw! I am not bleeding, I am not covered in crimson like a veil draped around my body! I am not gone yet-- 

_They have already left you body, child, in the place of death. You are gone._

NO! No! Nonononononononononono! 

_It was a necessary part of the plan._

Plan? What plan?! The only plan had been my own, my precious dream, my only desire, my hunger. My control and power had been everything, nothing could stand in my way, not even death. I needed this world. I wouldn't be denied the glow any longer! I wouldn't not receive my due homage, not because of this. I couldn't be dead. I couldn't be leaving this place. This world, my own, my ambitions... 

_The world is not your own to brand, and others have plans of their own._

Who... who would deny me? From the beginning, to the very end point, it was all so perfect. How could it have gone so horrible wrong? So out of frame, so very quickly? I had the power. I had the world. It was mine, for a single moment in eternity... my own thread to weave. Not my mother, not Merlin, no one would hurt me. 

_It was fated to end this way. Your death was necessary to the continuation of this world, Senda Wales. Your death will be the catalyst for their awakening._

Who's awakening? What the hell are you doing with me--?! 

_There are more things in heaven and earth than dreamt of in your philosophy, my Senda._

Oh God... I don't want to die. I don't want to end this so soon, I've got to create my world. You don't understand, you can't lock me up here, you can't keep me away from my body. You can't do this! I'm not one of them, I can't die, I'm not like those stupid fools! 

_You are not like them. They will save Everworld, as they have been meant to since before your mother's birth._

My mother... she will no longer need my forgiveness. She won't fear what's not there. 

_She will weep for you. Very few will, but she will be one to never stop._

It's a bitter feeling... to leave like this, knowing no one will cry for me. To know the world is tuned out, deaf from my pleas. I want to live. I want to have what I wanted always, the power to change and shape my own destiny. Is that so much to ask? For a little power, a little sustenance? Where else could I have gotten it? You'll deny me that? 

_I deny you nothing you did not deny yourself. You will stay here with me, until you are ready to go. And I will show you why they must live, and you must not. What they were. What they will be._

Who? Who will be what? 

_Your warriors, your chosen four. They were chosen in a lifetime before by a witch as well-- it seems fitting this is the case yet again. They will be as they once were, the Four of Everworld, the Four to unlock the power to save it. They are our second chance... perhaps the last._

I don't understand. 

_Their second chances... perhaps will end in something more than tragedy this time around._

I don't want to understand. 

_And so..._

I don't care, let me live, let me go! 

_...I will..._

I want to leave, I can't die, are you listening--?! 

_... show you..._

... no, no light, don't show me anything, just let me out of this space, this horrible empty space... 

_... the end of us..._

...don't want to die... 

_... and..._

...please... 

_The Beginning._

~~~~~~ 

The End of the Prelude. ^^;; Eh... confusing stuff, yes? Oh well. It'll be explained. 

WHEE! And we go into the depths of Everworld's past and origin! I'm... uh... tampering with heavy stuff here. Gah. x_x Oh well. I'll live... anyway, next part, we actually get to meet our awesome four! Uh, I think. Or somewhere soon. Eeee. 

... I have no idea what I'm doing. This was originally based on the thought that I HAD to see Jalil dressed up all pretty. o.o;; 

For those interested-- just gotta do some last minute changes on the fifth part of "Absence of the Heart". Eeeee, then it gets uploaded. So does the "Slash Files", with Jalil's interview! ^__^ Thanks so much! ::hugs:: 

~~~ 


	2. The Prophecy

Of Trembling Light: Part One 

By Kay 

Author's Notes: Here we go with the first part-- this timeline is really difficult to comprehend, so bear with me here. We've gone back to a point very early in Everworld's origin, but not at the very beginning. It's just growing now, that's all. This will be explained in a very lousy attempt. ^^;; Oh-- none of the guys show up, but they will in the next one. My plan includes to follow them as small children for maybe a chapter or two, then skip ahead to when they're older... 

Remember-- there will be SLASH. And het, but who gives a damn about that. ::winks:: 

Jalil: Only most of the population? 

... you shut up and go back to looking sexy. 

~~~~~ 

_In the Beginning..._

She stood silently in the rainfall, her pale white skin soaked to the her brittle bones. The damp air curled her golden strands roughly, sticking strands of blond to her sharply angled face, and falling into her dark green eyes. Her body was rigid. 

She stared at them. They listened quietly. 

The damp smell of the earth was heavy around their small group of assorted creatures-- the human mortals breathed it, the gods ignored it because they had created it. Water droplets fell and slid off their illuminated forms, the three gods who stood impassively to hear the girl they watched. Only three had come. Through the hundreds in their new world, only these few would listen to the words of such a girl. 

A powerful. A creative. A deadly, and a witch. 

She didn't look the part of a witch, all thin limbs and ragged gold hair, with her unblemished skin and clean face. So there were only five mortal humans who came to see her, a handful of trusting peasants who were eager for change. Their world needed the words of this girl, needed them for its very survival. Listening could only bring them hope, and this girl had eyes that told of older years than her age. 

Three gods, five mortals, and a witch. And they listened as the last spoke to them, with a raspy, airy voice that barely was heard over the downpour of rain. 

_"There will be four children, four protectors to guide us."_

One human woman, with flowing black hair, fidgeted. Her eyes were riveted on the golden haired girl, the witch dressed in rags. But she held her doubts and silence, letting the girl continue. 

_"Born at the exact same moment, the very second, the very first cry..."_ she said to them, bored but firm. _"They will be the ones to save this world. To bring your Everworld back from its shattered pieces."_

The god of blonde hair and impossible stature snorted, clearly insulted. But he held his silence also, for once in his eternal life, and Loki listened. He had come with the promise of change, change to their battered and struggling world. 

_"The gods created this place without concern, without thought to what would happen. There is confusion. They fight over territories, and yet such things don't exist here in the first place,"_ she murmered quietly. The rain pattered on her skin, clear rivers flowing down the white of her arms. 

_"The people have no leaders to learn from, and gods have no time for the teaching of mortals. They care for nothing of their plights and sorrows."_

At this point, someone else spoke up for the first time-- stepping forward, the golden haired goddess that had joined them out of curiousity frowned. She shook her head, dry hair perfect amongst the falling water, and said, "And the people will not always listen to the gods. You would have us give unselfishly to those who are supposed to worship us? This is not the way of gods, you know this." 

_"Ah, yes. The wise and fierce Athena speaks the truth, it is not entirely the fault of gods, but men also." _The witch reacted, smiling slightly for the first moment. However, it was quick lived and faded swiftly. Her next words were foreboding and full of warning. 

_"But it will be men who solve the problem. Four of our own mortals, gifted in rare abilities and thoughts, will bring this world to its knees. They will be its protectors, the shapers and molders, as pottery is made by our craftsmen."_ She closed her eyes and raised her dead fleshed face to the heavens, as though offering her lips. _"They will bring you completion and order. But this miracle will end in tragedy once its purpose is finished. None shall live to see their eighteenth mark."_

Quiet discontent flew across the features of the mortals, some suspicious, some hopeful, some sorrowful. The gods remained carefully composed, giving nothing away in their intense gazes. Loki and Athena carefully ignored one another, while the third looked distantly into the dark shadows surrounding them. 

"How do we know these incredible mortals when we see them?" she asked carefully, tearing his gaze away from the shadows. Her eyes glowed in the dark. "We cannot search every child in this world." 

_"They are specially marked, their very births prophesized,"_ the girl answered. _"You, Brigid, are a goddess who can understand the ruling of destiny. Your own awaits you in a fashion you cannot yet imagine."_

The goddess nodded slowly, giving no indication of alarm, but intent on the witch's face. She turned back after a moment to look into the shadows, her face thoughtful. 

The golden haired witch raised her pale slender hands in the air, palms up as if to claim ignorance. Instead she lowered her face from the sky and opened her eyes again. They blazed blackened crimson. 

_"The protector and priest of the North of Everworld will be born in the lairs of the dragons, from their very fire and ash. His bravery and determination will bring the lands together and create harmony. One day he will wield a sword the gods daren't touch. The legendary sword of Odin, the Balmung."_

Athena looked at her sharply. "The magical sword Siegfried wielded to destroy Fafnir?" 

_"The same."_

For a moment, Loki's jaw tensed at the mention of Odin's youngest son, Siegfried-- but he merely settled for scowling in distaste. The girl continued, ignoring the stunned looks of her listeners. 

_"The protector and priest of the West of Everworld will be born from the sea itself, cradled on rocks and cloaked in mist. His light heart will be as buoyant as the ocean, his temper and scorn just as powerful, and his joy will create trust and happiness in the people. He is a summoner of great magnitude, as he learns to use it."_

"A summoner of what?" one of the mortals, a tall and wizened old man asked calmly. His sharp sky-blue eyes were fixated on her, his own aura resonating with the power her's was expelling. 

_"Of what can be summoned,"_ she evaded simply, and continued without pause. _"The protector and priestess of the South of Everworld will be born from the earth, created of the softness and morality of flower petals, but the strength of stone. She is the faithful, the trusting, and will work to make this world worthy. Beware, though, she contains a conflict of powers. Her fingers bring healing, but they can also bring pain."_

"You are very vague in your descriptions of them," the dark haired mortal woman mocked finally. "Surely we can't find them from these mere pieces of information? You jest with us." 

The witch was silent, her body soaked and worn, but her eyes alive and snapping with violent energy. One of them had been lost. No matter, there were the others. She said nothing but turned to those who were still listening. 

_"You will know them when you find them."_

"You said there were four," one of the mortals murmered. 

_"Yes." _ Flashing eyes sought their own in the dark. _"The protector and the priest of the East of Everworld will be born from the winds and the gentle songs of the air on rivers. From the willow reeds, he is cunning and intelligent, sharp of wit and mind. Yet as ruthless and intent as a hurricane when forced. He will bring words and teach the people. But for all he can give to them, he can never give his heart to anyone."_

"Why not?" Brigid murmered. "Humans have so little without their hopes and loves. How can we place such an empty one as a protector?" 

The witch sighed softly in the night, listening as the sound fell with the rain, mixing in with the flesh of the ground. _"He will be cursed. Be warned of this-- no man or woman may ever touch his bare skin."_

"Why?" inquired the old man sharply. 

_"They will die on contact. It is his curse. And it will be his saving blessing, if he so chooses."_

With these cryptic words, the witch paused suddenly and cocked her head to the side. They watched in facination as she frowned, as though listening to distant music no one else could hear. After a moment, she looked back at them. Her heavy emerald eyes were blank of any emotion. 

_"I must leave this place now,"_ she said. _"Do not look for me again. Go to the four children, bring them to their new homes. Save this world you created and prize so highly."_

"Wait, you cannot leave without--" 

Athena's cry of outrage echoed throughout the clearing, where the eight of them stood in the trembling light of a growing dawn. The sun seeped through the trees of the clearing slowly, just barely touching their toes, only driving away the lightest of shadows. It turned the green grass under their feet a golden orange. 

The eight of them looked at one another; only eight, for the witch was gone. 

"A waste of time and full of blabberings," the dark haired mortal said. She scowled heavily at them all, black onyx eyes flashing, and straightened as though to storm away. Which she did when none of them moved-- only pausing to shout over her shoulder, "You fools! Why believe the words of a witch?!" 

She faded out of the forest, and the light tipped over their feet. Spilled into the clearing and warmed them. They stared at each other, consideringly-- a god of destruction, a goddess of wisdom, and a goddess of many things. An old mortal man with considerable powers, many of which would pass on down to his future children, who would in turn become great wizards as well. Three other mortals; a woman with concern and worry in her dark oak gaze, a young child of thirteen with a serious frown and blue eyes, and a man with dark black hair swept back into a braid. 

"I believe her," the mortal teenager spoke. "I think we should try to find these four protectors before it's too late." 

The others nodded. The gods said nothing, but a softening in Athena and Brigid's faces seemed approving. Loki eyed the trees as though they would give him answers he didn't have, and they obviously wouldn't have anyway. 

"You are humans, you can move about in the world far better than us. Go. Go and find these four that we seek," Athena said, neither ordering nor asking. Merely stating that they would, as she knew they would. They all nodded. 

Brigid spoke, "Bring them back here when you find them, to this very clearing. Remember the witch's warning well, though, and take caution." 

"We will each search for a seperate child," the old man said. He glanced around the group as though judging who would be best for what task. "I will take the South, if there are no objections. My magic works well with earth forces and plantlife. It is perhaps the best option." 

"I know dragons well," the dark haired man offered. "My father's brother lives near their favourite hunting grounds. It would be easy for me to slip into their midst and find the child of North." The others nodded to him. 

"I swim well," the brown-eyed woman said. She laughed. 

"Then that leaves me," said the young girl. "I will go to the East to search for our little cursed one." Her midnight blue eyes darkened further, tinged with swirls of navy and cerulean. "Good luck to you all." 

"And you." 

"Yes." 

Loki strode off through the trees without a word, ignoring the entire group. The goddesses disappeared, and the four mortals were left alone in the clearing. 

After a moment, they also left. 

And in the silence, a disembodied voice murmered softly to the trees and the air. 

_"This can only end in tragedy."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

End of Part One: More to come soon! Next up: We meet Baby!Jalil! Hee hee. Okay, so Baby!Everyone, actually, but he's a cutie. So wah. :P 

Mweh, I don't feel good. Going to bed now. I hope everyone enjoyed this... ::frets:: The whole born from fire, earth yadda yadda, doesn't really have anything to do with their personalities or elements or whatever. ^^;; Not *really*. Well, kind of. I don't know, it just sounded cool! Anyway, thanks for reading... all will be explained later... 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	3. Ash Brat

Of Trembling Light 

By Kay 

Author's Notes: Mwwagh. My computer got hit by a god awful virus-- and I lost EVERYTHING. All my documents. All my fics in progress. *Everything*. 

... I hate life. 

However, I'm slowly recovering from this trauma, and have started trying to rewrite my fics. ^^;; It's not any where as near as good as the original one was turning out, but at least I'm getting a move on... so enjoy! Thanks for all the support, guys. Hope no one forgot about me while I was away! 

Oh-- IMPORTANT NOTE-- I wasn't originally going to have the exact same names. But I thought it'd be too confusing, so they'll keep 'em. ^^;; So please ignore that "David" and such probably wouldn't be given names in Everworld. 

Oh. And forgive all the original characters-- I didn't have an alternative. Hope y'like 'em. ^^;; 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The witch had given her instructions. It did not occur to the dark-haired youth until later, however, that she had given them no _time frame._

"Just _when_ will this little demon brat be born?" complained Sage Ryle, stabbing viciously at a random log with the tip of his sword. The glimmering edge slashed at the bark, leaving a trail of ruined wick to leak from the organic wound. 

"You should learn patience, Sage," his uncle commented. He took another puff of the pipe he was holding, glancing over at his annoyed nephew. "It won't do well if you can't learn patience, as you are supposed to take care of this child. Take it from me, your old guardian-- it's not an easy thing, to care for a baby." 

"Yes, yes." Sage sighed in irritation, but it was without malice. Settling against the cold granite rock behind him, the tall young man looked at up a gray and turbulent sky. He had ridden hard and long to make it to this northern land of giant beasts, where generations of his family had been raised and trained. His own parents had long passed away, leaving him as a small child here, and these lands had become home to him. He had been raised by his eccentric yet kind uncle here. 

That didn't stop him from shuddering at the overcast sky. 

"It looks as though it's ready to sprout teeth and attack me," he muttered darkly, tossing a suspicious look at the weather again. "Why can't we go inside, Uncle?" 

The old man perched on a rock beside him snorted. "'Tis merely a storm, boy. Don't be such a spineless clod." 

"Your faith in my courage astounds me." 

His uncle grinned at him-- a cracked, wizened old thing that almost ripped the worn leather of his face in two. "Aye, it should. And how could I ever doubt that m'boy would never learn sarcasm? Hah hah." 

Sage shook his head, but had a slight smile on his face. 

"I just want to know when this babe will be born," he replied. Flipping the raven ponytail trailing down his back, Sage added, "And when I can stop spending every day in dragon turf. You know they don't take kindly to us here. It _is_ their nesting ground." 

His uncle smacked his dry lips against the pipe in his mouth, wisps of smoke curling around his face. "Ch', silly boy. Our family has stayed on these grounds for ages. Centuries. Since the dawn of Everworld--" 

"Yes, yes, but that doesn't mean they _won't_ eat us, now does it?" Sage snapped irritably. He crossed his arms over his chest, and gazed out anxiously over the plain. 

If it wasn't such a dangerous spot to be relaxing, he had to admit it was beautiful. The hills rolled in gentle waves of emerald grass, dotted with sharp gray rocks every few feet. Within the slabs of stone that the dragons had built up into nests (mind you, nests the size of a miniature horse) there were scattered, graceful spheres. The spheres looked almost like the rocks, blending in with their smooth crystalline features. Some resembled slate or granite, others more delicate and beautiful than quartz. Each was half the size of Sage, if not larger, and he winced every time they would shake or jerk in their resting places. 

Eggs. Dragon eggs. 

"I keep thinking-- if I even _touched_ one, they'd bite my entire arm off," he mumbled darkly. His uncle cackled. 

"Or just a half your head. Tastier to them, you know." 

"Silence, old man," grumbled Safe. "You're wearisome." 

Ignoring the gleeful laughter of his uncle, and mentally wondering _why_ he had agreed to such a foolish task, Sage gazed over the lands once again. 

"How do I find a child that is born from no womb..." he asked softly to himself, gray eyes confused and lost. Almost naturally, his hands found grooves in the stones rising from the ground behind him-- climbing the rocks of a dragon nest was never well-advised, but his family never had been exactly common, either. Sage scrambled to the top of a particularly high one, looking down over the nest. From there, he could see farther off in the distance, where the large and lanky beasts were resting. 

"I think they may come over here soon," Sage called down to his uncle. He brushed a strand of wayward black hair out of his face, tossed by the wind. "Eh-- I can smell them from here." 

"Lovely." 

"So you'd say." Sage wrinkled his nose up. "They may be beautiful and graceful and deadly, Uncle, but their hygiene could always use a little perking up." 

"No more than your's could," his uncle cracked, snickering to himself with glee and clapping the rock he sat on. "Heh heh." 

"Oh, silence, old man." 

There was a funny sort of quiet that came with being in dragon nesting territory. Ever since Sage was a tiny lad, he'd ran over these fields, tripping over the rocks. His kind had a particular understanding with the dragons. (Compromising mostly of threats and wary trust, but it was indeed an understanding, if not a peculiar one.) One of the things that always struck him the most was the deathly _silence_ around the nests. As though there had to be utter nothingness, in order to hear the first baby break its shell and cry out. 

Sage would be thankful, however, for that silence now. 

"Hear that?" 

"What?" Sage peered down at his uncle, studying the way the old man cocked his head to the side. "What is it?" 

"Shhh. Listen, boy." 

And he did. He turned his head to the north side of the nesting grounds, listening and straining to hear. At first it was nothing. Then it appeared, so faint and tiny that he almost wasn't sure. 

"A baby. Crying..." he breathed. 

He looked at his uncle. His uncle looked at him. 

Then, turning their heads towards the north, they began to run. 

***

"David Amaranth Ryle," Sage announced gleefully. "It's _perfect._" 

"Doesn't sound like a warrior's name to me," Uncle muttered darkly. He took another puff of his pipe. 

"Don't smoke that around the baby," Sage said firmly, holding the bundle in his arms away from the wisps of gray smoke in the air. It shifted and made a cooing sound, gentle and inquisitive, as though wanting to know why it was being manhandled. "It'll get sick. If you want it to grow up to be a warrior, smoking's only going to weaken the poor thing." 

"You're not his mother," grumbled his uncle, but his dark eyes were twinkling, and he put out the pipe with a quick burst of air. "And you don't sound like much of a warrior either! Squealing at that little ash brat." 

"Ash brat? That's not very nice." Sage peered down at the baby-- David, what a perfect name, he thought!-- and grinned in delight. "You're not an ash brat, are you, David? You're special and strong. You're a Ryle." 

"He's an ash brat. We found him in ash, and he's a brat." 

"Oh, silence, old man." 

The baby cooed sadly at them both. Sage immediately rocked it carefully in his muscled arms, beaming at the child within. Two dark, almost black eyes peered back up at him, curious and unfearing. There was already a shock of deep brown hair growing on his head, and tiny fingers reached around to cling at the air. 

He remembered digging around in the nest after that plaintive cry, one with broken eggshells already scattered. The dragon children had been born a few hours before, and the ground was full of soot and ash from their first breaths. It was within that lifeless soot that David had howled, unpleased at being left in the dirt all alone. Sage could remember how he had immediately quieted at the sight of his face, blinking up at him without a single worry. 

Sage knew at that moment that this child was something incredible. All thoughts of hating the task and wanting to get it over with just flew out of his head. This was… something good. Something he wouldn't be able to leave for a long time now. 

He thought David was perfect. 

As if he could hear Sage's thoughts, David cooed again-- one of the few sounds he'd made that sounded pleased. All in all, he was a quiet baby. Didn't say a word until they got him to his uncle's house, and then he cried only out of hunger. Sage was amazed at the trust in the tiny being, who didn't seem worried at all that he had no parents to come for him. No one except Sage and Uncle. 

"Well, we're just as good as anyone," he murmured to David. The baby smiled at him, and Sage felt himself grin back. 

"What are you going to do with him?" his uncle asked. He was watching them both with a strange, amused gleam in his old eyes. 

"Well..." To be honest, Sage hadn't thought about that yet. He knew he was supposed to bring the child back to the clearing-- but David was so small. Unafraid or not, babies wouldn't stand a chance in the wild. Not to mention the fact that he didn't know when the others would return. _If_ they returned at all. What if it was a waste of a trip? 

And even if they did, how could he just leave David Amaranth Ryle with them? 

_'Ayi. I sound like a mother. Curse the goddess.'_

"Maybe you should keep him here for a while." 

Sage looked up at his uncle sharply. "What did you say?" 

The old man smiled at him mysteriously, tapping his unlit pipe on his weathered lips. "I said that maybe you should keep him here. Just for a while. He'll be needin' training and such. A couple months or so would do him good in the country, before those strange folk take him away. It might be best. You can always send word with a messenger that he's safe and well-protected here. Then... when they actually need him..." 

Sage bit his lip hard. He looked down at David. The baby wrinkled its nose at him, dark eyes boring deeply into his own. 

"Well, little dragon... what do _you_ think?" he asked softly. He held out his finger to the child, and watched as David clutched at it tightly with one hand and squealed. 

_"Baaaaa!"_

Sage's lips twitched. He heard his uncle snort with laughter. 

"I guess the ash brat has decided to stick around for a while!" 

"Oh, silence, old man." Sage grinned down at David. "As for _you_... David... let's go get you something to sleep in, eh?" 

His uncle watched them both leave the room, cooing and taunting at each other. His ancient throat heaved in laughter. 

When they were gone, he lit his pipe. 

"Heh. Ash brat's got good taste." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

TO BE CONTINUED: Next up, they find another baby. Basic plan includes all the chapters of finding the babies, then some growing up chapters, then... damn it, this is going to be frickin' long. And I've never finished an epic. And I never update. But... MUST TRY... x_x 

Thanks for all your support! I appreciate y'all stickin' with me. *HUGS* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


End file.
